


Deep

by Viscariafields



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viscariafields/pseuds/Viscariafields
Summary: “A penny for your thoughts, my dear?”Alistair watched Lyna across the fire, picking at her plate. She hated mushrooms, she said. She didn’t seem to be a fan of roast nug, either. There weren’t many other options in the Deep Roads.“I was thinking that Warden recruits should be taken to the Deep Roads before the Joining. That way they could choose the blade.”Alistair huffed. He preferred not to think about, well, that. “It’s not so bad, is it? Some of these ruins are—”“Filled with spiders, when they aren’t filled with Darkspawn. Not to mention those… those… I don’t know the word for them. Little penises with teeth.”Alistair choked on his mushroom. Is that what she thought his—did he really look like…?“Deepstalkers,” Zevran supplied.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Deep

“A penny for your thoughts, my dear?”

Alistair watched Lyna across the fire, picking at her plate. She hated mushrooms, she said. She didn’t seem to be a fan of roast nug, either. There weren’t many other options in the Deep Roads.

“I was thinking that Warden recruits should be taken to the Deep Roads before the Joining. That way they could choose the blade.”

Alistair huffed. He preferred not to think about, well, _that_. “It’s not so bad, is it? Some of these ruins are—”

“Filled with spiders, when they aren’t filled with Darkspawn. Not to mention those… those… I don’t know the word for them. Little penises with teeth.”

Alistair choked on his mushroom. Is that what she thought his—did he really look like…?

“Deepstalkers,” Zevran supplied.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, sounding the word out. “Did the dwarves come up with that name do you think? It sounds too… fanciful for what they actually are.”

Zevran grinned. “And what they are is—”

“Little penises with teeth.”

Alistair groaned. And despite the horrific image she gave him, despite the fact that he’d never be able to look at a deepstalker again while fighting them, would have to blindfold himself if it came to it and just stomp around a bit, he was glad to see her smile for what felt like the first time since they went underground. He finished his supper, trying to keep the image out of his mind and finding the mushrooms harder to swallow now. He finished Lyna’s plate as well while she set up their tent.

Their nights, if you could call any time down here night, were quieter in the Deep Roads. Laughter echoed through long dead halls and soon Lyna and Zevran stopped talking much at all. The quiet was driving Alistair mad, but he worried more for Lyna, who seemed dispirited for the first time in their pursuit to stop the Blight. She tossed and turned in her bedroll, only stilling herself when Alistair once again asked her what was on her mind.

“This is what we have to look forward to at the end? We’ll come here, away from the sky and trees, and everything, and be swallowed whole into the earth until we don’t remember who we are?”

Of all things, _that_ was not what he was expecting. Some fate twenty years away was hardly on his mind. “Assuming we don’t get fried, salted, and eaten by the Archdemon first, yes.”

“That might be preferable, to be honest.”

“You might feel differently then. The Calling is… it’s not just a signal that our time is up, but more of a drive to go to the Deep Roads. Or so I’ve been told.” Lyna rested her head on his chest, hand splayed out beside it, and he ran his fingers through her hair. “And I’ll come with you, when it’s time,” he promised, “We’ll come back together, and it won’t be so bad. The darkspawn will practically be old friends by then. I’m sure they’ll welcome us with open arms.”

“Chums, is it?”

He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. Anything felt possible with her by his side.

“Together then,” she sighed.

With Lyna softly breathing on his chest, Alistair drifted to sleep, too tired to worry about the exact mechanism of his own death. Whatever tore him away from Lyna, be it here and soon or elsewhere and far in the future, Alistair had no control over it. 

The morning sun hit his eyes, and Alistair jerked awake off the floor next to his too-soft bed, his pillow covered in sweat. He woke up alone. The King of Ferelden always woke up alone.

Most days, he preferred the nightmares of darkspawn and archdemons to memories of Lyna. Dreamless sleep would also have been nice, but thinking that very hard did not make it come to pass. He preferred not to sleep at all if he could manage it.

His love did not die swallowed up by the stone as she feared. From his palace window, he could see the point in the sky where Lyna was obliterated along with the Archdemon. She died under open skies, high in the air over Denerim.

For the thousandth time, he wondered about the calculation she made when she went up there without him. Whether she had made the decision while he held her, stupidly believing they had a future together. Her words echoed in his mind. Had she planned it back then? Had she never intended to survive the Blight?

Alistair turned away from the window. He hadn’t returned to the Deep Roads since then. He supposed, when the time came, he would be alone.


End file.
